Set Fire To The Hive
by jellyfish incorporated
Summary: James T. Kirk doesn't believe in no-win scenarios. But when his First Officer is kidnapped by two outlaws with nothing to lose, he must risk everything to prove himself right.
1. I Don't Know What's Wrong

Set Fire To The Hive.

**jellyfish incoroprated**

* * *

The dingy bar was crowded not due to its bountiful menu and excellent service so much as the torrential rain. The rain jacketed regulars cast disdainful look at the sodden tourists, unfamiliar with the planet's temperamental atmosphere. The bar was so infrequently visited by anyone of importance that cigarette smoke thickened the air and pre-teens ordered shots of paint stripper without so much as flashing a fake ID.

How Captain James T Kirk and his crew found their way into said establishment was beyond their communal comprehension. Nonetheless, they cut a path to the bar and began to order what they thought was whiskey but was really more like cointreau.

Even if they had noticed the two hooded figures perched on bar stools adjacent to theirs, they could not have imagined how their brief meeting would end.

* * *

Arrienne knew. The second the blue-clad Vulcan stepped over the threshold of her residential haunt, she _knew._ It was him.

She'd never forget the face of the man who destroyed her planet.

* * *

L'T'Freja was working her way through her fourth shot of what she liked to think was the Vulcan equivalent of whiskey when Arrienne jabbed her in the ribs. "_Whaaaat_?" She half-drawled half squealed; displeased to find her pleasantly morose silence broken by angry Romulan expletives and an elbow to the liver. "Wha' s'iiiiit?" She hissed, leaning over her spilled drink to squint up at Arrienne, before following her pointed gaze across the bar.

Well. Fuck me.

"Well. Fuck _me_."

"It's him." Arrienne growled, her jaw set and eyes burning twin holes in the back of the man's skull. "Bastard." The glass in her hand cracked under the unconscious clench of her fingers around its scratched surface. Red liquid dribbled through the cracks to stain white fingers scarlet.

L'T'Freja rested her head in the crook of her elbow, her shot glass suspended above her silk swathed head whilst she focused on Arrienne's furious expression. She waited a further ten seconds before downing the rest of her drink, wiping her hand across her mouth and hopping off her bar stool.

"Are you sure 'bout this? Talking, no, _bitching_ about gettin' yer 'own back' is very different than actually exacting revenge," Leaning back against the bar, her eyes flicked over Arrienne's face, set in silent rage, before taking in her rigid posture and the firm set of her boots on the heavily scuffed floor.

Arrienne replied with a mouthful of angry, slightly slurred Romulan. Despite her drunken tone, her eyes were fixed on her target with a terrible, hollow sobriety.

L'T'Freja sighed.

"Let's do this,"

* * *

McCoy couldn't remember the last time he'd been hit on.

The girl he was in the process of being seriously flattered by seemed more than a little drunk and almost definitely not human. Despite the white cloth covering her head from crown to eyebrows (and tucked over her ears), he had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't legal either. The playful glint in grey-green eyes and the apple cheeked grin told him she was no more than 17.

"Hey kid, am flattered an' all, but aint you a little young to be in a place like this?" He raised one eyebrow in what he sincerely hoped a very un-Spock like manner before raising his glass to his lips. He was gonna need a lot more whiskey if jail bait here decided to stick around.

She laughed at the word 'kid'. It was an ugly, high-pitched bark of a laugh and it almost made Bones spray his drink all over the Klingon bar-maid. She smiled; a crooked, shit-eating grin, a mouth full of broken glass.

"Funny as well as cute. You're a real catch, Leonard," She winked before trying to cup her face in the one hand, her elbow propped up on the bar, failed, lost her balance and careened off her bar stool straight into McCoy's lap.

"Shit!" Leonard's hope that his new underage friend hadn't blown chunks all over his new boots evaporated when he realised he didn't remember telling her his name. Not a second after this thought had flitted through his fatigued mind had the girl positioned herself so she was half straddling, half looking over McCoy's shoulder, one ear-like tail of her silk scarf tickling his face. One gloved hand clamped down over the nerve in Leonard's shoulder, but before she applied the necessary force, the girl whispered in a voice McCoy wouldn't soon forget,"Sweet Dreams, Bones."

* * *

Kirk smirked. Watching Bones retreat into his cynical shell like a human snail at the first sign of flirting never got old. Especially when the girl doing the flirting looked young enough to his daughter. Plus, watching Bones was better than getting berated by the man himself for gazing at Spock for prolonged periods of time.

Jim's amusement spiked when the girl stumbled onto Bones, and then fizzled into panic when he watched his best friend slump onto the bar top, whilst the girl in a headscarf leaned over his shoulder to aim her phaser at his first officer.


	2. But I'm On Fire

Jim had been on his feet for less than ten seconds when the girl he was aiming his best right hook at swung her phaser to the side, and with a swift upward motion, struck him with the butt of her weapon.

He grunted as the force of the blow knocked him sideways; _damn_ she was strong, and not just for a girl. Bottles clattered to the floor as he leaned heavily on a nearby table, before grabbing one particularly thick one, and with his trade mark flourish, threw it at the girl's silken head.

The hollow _dooong_ the bottle made as it ricocheted off the girl's left temple reminded Jim of church bells, or the flat echo of a struck gong. If the situation hadn't been so grave he probably would have laughed. Hell, the 'situation' was so damned crazy he almost did anyway.

Kirk watched with a solemn sense of triumph as the girl reeled onto the counter, her phaser slipping from slack fingers as she leaned over the sticky bar top. Jim wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her vomit, one hand cradling her head, whilst the other grappled for something out of sight.

Jim bridged the gap between himself and his attacker to pull Bones from his bar stool and deposit him in one of the squashy booths behind him. A voice in his head suggested perhaps apprehending McCoy's assailant before coming to his rescue, but Jim wasn't destined to learn that lesson just yet.

He got as far as winding one arm around his CMO's waist before the girl in the headscarf clubbed him with a pint glass. Whilst he lay sprawled on the floor, McCoy unconscious and half on top of him, he realised with vague amusement that he wasn't the only one in a punch up; the _entire_ bar had descended into chaos. Once again, the odds were most definitely _not_ in Jim Kirk's favour, he mused as he spotted more than three, (or was that six?) Klingons slinging it out with what may have been Andorians. Or Orions. Aw _Hell. _

L'T'Freja adjusted her headscarf (playing live action whack-a-mole with your own damned _head_ will do that to a head dress) as she stood over a very bemused member of Starfleet, cradling who may or may not have been his husband drooling all over his nice gold shirt.

"Payback's a _bitch_," She half slurred half spat before scooping her fallen phaser off the floor.

* * *

For once, Arrienne was glad her partner was part Klingon; warning the bar maid of the same race that the nice Andorian in the corner was packin' some serious heat and harboring some real beef for the Klingon nation was the ticket to get shit started. What she hadn't anticipated was how _quickly_ Klingons could become enraged; within _seconds_ of L'T'Freja's information falling on willing ears, the air was thick with fists and glasses alike; tables fast over turned and knives flashing in what dim lighting there was.

Despite the melee, Arrienne cut a path to her target in record time.

Her prey had his back to her; he was reaching out to a red-clad female member of Starfleet, using his Vulcan strength to pull her towards him past Klingons and angry humans alike. She felt her mouth twist into a bitter, twisted smile as she pulled the syringe from the compartment in her sleeve.

* * *

"_Fuuuuuuck_," L'T'Freja moaned as she stuffed her scarf with ice to lessen the swelling she knew would be a lump in the morning. As if her forehead wasn't 3D enough. She gently poked the cubes into place before peering over the counter top.

Much to her annoyance, Mr Goldie Shirt refused to stay down. Now, L'T'Freja was no lightweight when it came to fighting. Despite the childish face and tendancy to squeal like a stuck pig when annoyed, she actually packed a mean punch.

And she'd given Kirk all she had.

_What, is his skull fucking steel plated? _she wondered as she watched the blond man slowly rise to his feet, Bones in tow. She snorted quietly when he stumbled, bouncing off an armored Klingon shoulder before laying his friend on the nearest unoccupied seat. The booth would offer adequate shelter and would also make sure the unconscious man would do himself no further harm.

Once he was sure McCoy was safe, Kirk turned his attention back to the bar. Make that three bars. Everything was swaying, flitting in and out of focus, and occasionally changing colour. _Concussion. Great. Bet Bones has the mother of all hypos for this one. _

Kirk watched as three girls in white headscarves vaulted over the bar, this time across the room from him, to then press a curved knife to Nyota Uhura's throat.


	3. Burns Through My Hands

Just as the blade of L'T'Freja's dagger made contact with the exposed flesh of Nyota's throat, Spock turned, Vulcan speed rendering him a blue black blur to the naked eye, but Arrienne could see with crystal clarity the stretch of his neck just beneath the pulse of an artery, into which she stabbed her syringe with a satisfying _pop_.

* * *

"_Spock!_" Kirk shouted, his voice drowned out by the various crashes and ululations in the background. Watching Spock fall to the floor was like watching a silent movie; the jerky bursts of movement interrupted by and spotted with patches of black, either other inhabitants blocking his line of sight, or his own mind stuttering in the wake of moderately severe head trauma.

He watched numbly as Uhura was restrained by the girl who clubbed him, not really seeing her. Just Spock; falling over and over again, as a explicable sense of dread rose in his stomach like a tidal wave of anticipation.

He would chalk up to the head trauma later, but watching a complete stranger dispatch Spock so easily elicited a far stronger response from him than he had thought possible.

It's probably why he pulled his phaser and vaulted himself over the bar without waiting for back up.

* * *

"_Spock!_" Uhura screamed, instinctively reaching for her lover, before the cold press of steel at her jugular made her reconsider. She winced as she felt the weapon nick her; a single crimson bead rolling down her neck to mingle with the sweat now flowing free. "You _bastards_. You'll never get away with this." She snarled, her fists bunched at her sides, her neck straining as far as she dared to try to catch a glimpse of her captor.

"Probably," L'T'Freja agreed, and Uhura felt the knife at her throat twitch as the girl flicked her wrist, the bi-product of her shrug of indifference. Another red pinprick welled beneath the rusty blade. "But we don't need to get 'away' with this," The stray hairs tucked behind the Lieutenant's ear stirred as her attacker's breath ghosted over her shoulder. "We just need to get far enough,"

Nyota snorted in forced disbelief (_don't let them know you're scared don't give them the satisfaction_), her dark eyes rolling skyward. "_Right_. You've obviously never messed with Starfleet before. Doesn't matter, James T Kirk will teach you a lesson you'll never forget." She said blithely, hoping against hope that her Captain's influence extended to even the most secluded corners of the galaxy. She feared she could do little else to save Spock.

L'T'Freja cocked her head to one side, her headscarf tickling the base of Uhura's neck. "Who, _Goldie Locks_? Yeah, yeah, we know him. We've _met_, actually. That goes for his Doctor, too. Met a few Starfleet officers, actually. None quite as ..._ Plucky_ as your crew, though." She paused, flexing her grip on her knife, her other hand snaking out to grab Uhura's wrist and wrench it upwards, pressing her forearm along the line of her spine. Over the cry of pain muffled by the table her face was crushed into, Nyota heard L'T'Freja say one more thing before her world went blissfully black.

"I hope Spock upholds such high standards,"

* * *

Arrienne was smiling.

She had dreamed, no, _fantacised_ about this moment. And, like all dreamers, could scarcely believe her wish finally had been granted.

The syringe she had seconds before plunged into Spock's neck seemed to tingle in her hand. Perhaps _burn _was more accurate. After all, how could something so insignificant and yet also capable of disabling a _Vulcan_ not radiate power? Some sort of secret, radioactive core able to override even the most resilient of immune systems; an intangible aura of strength. Leftovers from the potent poison itself.

The needle was a millimeter thick, the body of the syringe not much broader, its contents less than five milliliters, and yet First Officer Spock of the infamous Starfleet _Enterprise_ lay at her feet.

However, despite being injected with a generous does of an illegal Class A sedative, Spock had collapsed with an annoying amount of dignity. Even sprawled on the filthy floor of a back street bar he exuded an air of quiet elegance. Not one sheeny shiny hair out of place.

Well. We'll soon see about that.

* * *

Kirk sprang over the bartop, glasses flying like hand grenades and exploding like bombs around him as he landed directly behind Arrienne. He pressed the nose of the phaser to the back of head, the cold metal nudging dreadlocks and beaded plaits aside to press firmly against her skull.

He motioned to the two red shirts who'd followed him over; not only had they quelled the worst of the fighting, but were now about to take on Bonnie and Bonnie here.

"Lower your weapons immediately," Jim was unaware of how quiet the bar became as his smooth baritone cut through the smoky air like a scalpel. If he hadn't been in the process of rescuing two of his most prized officers, he would've savored the moment. "And nobody gets ... Hurt," _Killed._

_

* * *

_

"Held at gunpoint by a Starfleet Captain," Arrienne tilted her head over so slightly to the side, one amber eye seeking out Kirk's baby blues to lock in a stare. "To what do I owe the honour?"

* * *

Jim had met Arrienne before.

Not her specifically, but people like her. Renegades. Rejects with a grudge to bear and a gun to wield. All angry, in varying degrees. Reckless, and often unintelligent. Typically cowardly and easy to bride, but almost always impossible to negotiate with. It wasn't that they were _unreasonable _per se_,_ just untrustworthy; prone to lying and adept at cheating.

He didn't see why these two would be any different.

* * *

L'T'Freja withdrew a phaser from its holster, grabbed a fistful of Uhura's hair and pulled the unconscious officer to her feet, before pressing the nose of her weapon to her right temple. Her knife clattered to the floor and span out of sight, but the noise it made echoed in the now quiet bar. The remainder of Kirk's team had evacuated the premises and were now radioing the _Enterprise_ for assistance. The two armed security officers eyed L'T'Freja with a mixture of wariness and incredulity.

"Nice to see you up and about, Jimmy. Though I'd knocked you out for the count back there," She bantered lightly, shuffling forward until she and Arrienne were less than three feet apart. Spock, unnaturally still lay between them.

Jim didn't trust himself to answer; he could feel the bubbles of rage fizzling in his veins and blackening his heart. His startlingly blue eyes flicked from L'T'Freja's cocked weapon to the hand clenched in Nyota's raven hair. His Lieutenant's legs were slightly bent; her feet dragging on the filthy floor. He swiftly deemed her unconscious. He dared not look at Spock, for fear of giving L'T'Freja an opening, but also because a small, dark and frequently ignored part of him whispered that he didn't know what he'd do if he saw him lying there. Just thinking about his First defenseless and at the mercy of two pirates did things to Jim's heart he didn't have the time to analyse. He felt his jaw clench at the thought and unconsciously tightened his grip on his weapon.

"I am James T Kirk of the Starship _Enterprise_. I am placing you both under arrest. Release my Commander and Lieutenant and you and your partner will not be harmed. If you don't co-operate I --" Jim's sentence (_protocol one of his specialties something familiar **he was in control**_) was interrupted by an explosion. In the split second he took to duck from both the ear shattering sound and flying debris, he abandoned all hope and forgot all protocol.


	4. Leaving Skin On The Wire

The broken glass glittered like diamonds in Kirk's hair as he lifted his head in time to watch Arrienne grab one of Spock's arms and begin to drag him across towards the open window.

_He might get scratched by the broken glass_ Kirk thought numbly as he lurched to his feet, his phaser no longer set to stun. He had just regained his equilibrium when he felt something heavy crash into his side.

* * *

He went down with an "_Oof!_" and, temporarily winded, wondered irritably if L'T'Freja would kindly stop instigating scenarios which resulted with him stupefied and sprawled on the floor with any one of his many officers sprawled across him like a human safety blanket. He shifted Uhura in his grasp, cradling the unconscious woman's head and motioning for a Red shirt to take her to safety. He found it strangely fitting that two lovers so besotted as Spock and Nyota to both be unconscious, after trying to free the other from certain death. He wondered if they would dream of each other, and a sudden pang of sadness chilled his heart.

Getting to his feet for the second time, his eyes quickly sought out L'T'Freja, who seemed to be holding something long and dark in her hand. He realized, incredulously what it was before Uhura's ponytail was thrown in his face, an odd but effective method of distraction.

"Okay, _enough_ with the throwing shit!" He shouted, blinking his eyes free of hair and spitting out a clump of the dead tissue in the most undignified way possible. Shouting and spitting, Kirk's two most successful wooing techniques. Ladies love a man who can _hawwwwk _and holler.

Yelling at two red shirts to go round the back of bar, he fired a warning shot so close to Arrienne's head that he could smell her singed hair, one braid now hanging by a single strand, from four feet away. "Next time, I won't miss," His voice was cold, but his eyes colder still as he stared at her down the barrel of his phaser.

He was about to make good on his promise, end this insufferable charade and get his First Officer the Hell out of there when another bomb went off.

* * *

White plumes of dusty smoke shrowded Jim's vision, and rubble rolled across his path, grains of dirt and plaster scuffing his boots. The secondary explosion was smaller than the first, but Jim was so hyped up on adrenalin that he jumped a near foot in the air when the dynamite ignited, and tore his eyes away from Arrienne long enough for her to dance out of his line of vision.

"_No!_" He coughed, the dusty air tickling his throat as he stumbled through the mist towards the window. When he reached it, all that was left of Spock was a clump blue fibers clinging to the broken shards of glass, jutting from the cracked pane like the multiple rows of a shark's teeth.


	5. Awake In This Womb

"What do you _mean_ 'no clearance'?" Kirk's bloodshot eyes bored into Pike's and despite being literally light years apart, Chris could feel the tension rolling off Starfleet's prodigal son in waves. "We chased those … _Fugitives_ for _two whole hours_. My best officers learned how to man the obscure transport vehicles of this _Godforsaken_ plant in five minutes so we could chase two criminals through alien streets in the pouring rain for _two hours_. Two hours of diddly squat, and now that I actually have the means to locate my first officer, you're telling me I can't. Because of protocol. "

No one on the bridge dared draw breath.

Admiral Pike dropped his gaze and massage his temples with one hand. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but even _I_ have my orders. And they are for the Starship Enterprise to dispatch immediately to Saturn VII to respond to a code three distress signal. People, _innocent_ people are in _grave_ danger, Jim. This isn't an order you can just shrug off, Jim." He looked at Kirk with an expression of two parts resignation and one part sympathy.

"And leaving my First Officer on an alien planet is something I can?" Kirk's eyes glittered with hostile determination and his jaw was set with stubbornness.

Pike's cheeks flushed and his gaze hardened. "That isn't what I meant. Look, Jim. I understand how important a Captain's First Officer is, but-"

"The _Hell_ you do. You haven't been Captain in what, five years? And come to think of, I don't know who your First Officer was. Can you even remember his name? His race, his specialty? And Mr Spock isn't just my First Officer. He's one of the best officers on this ship, _Hell,_ in all of Starfleet. He's a necessity to the Science Department and crucial to the development and completion of each and every of my missions. He's not just a co-worker, a friend or even my First Officer. He's someone lover," Kirk's eyes cut to Uhura, standing with her head bowed at her station, her face hidden by a dark curtain of hair. She lifted her head at the mention of her lover and the look in her eyes forced Pike to look away.

No one spoke for a few moments. When Pike looked back at Kirk, he was shocked and saddened to see the same look emotion in Uhura's eyes in the slumped stance of his protégé. Kirk's arms were braced on the bar in front of the screen through which Pike observed the bridge. His head was bowed slightly, but Pike knew without seeing his face the look that haunted his eyes.

"You have twenty four hours." Pike conceded, his expression defeated.

"Forty eight," The crew jumped slightly at Kirk's sudden interjection. His eyes blazed with hope and hunger, and his voice, although slightly hoarse, was bright with the promise of a smile.

Pike softened in the face of such eager loyalty. "Thirty six. That's all I can promise you. And if Starfleet finds out about this, I'm not the only one who'll suffer the repercussions. Your entire crew will be considered responsible for anything that happens on Saturn VII that could have been prevented by intervention by this vessel. Are you willing to put your career and the future of your entire crew on the line, Jim?"

Jim considered his options, the probability of finding Spock, the probability of him finding a satisfactory replacement, the probability of Uhura ever smiling again. The probability of _him_ ever smiling again. When he looked Pike in the eyes, the Admiral knew Jim was his father's son.

"You can't have an entire crew without a First Officer. Ask me when we get him back if I think it was worth it,"

"And Jim?"

Kirk turned from his crew, one hand on Uhura's shoulder in a comforting squeeze to look at Pike with an slightly closed, and also somewhat triumphant expression.

"I do remember my First Officer. I married her. She was a quarter Orion and her specialty was engineering. She died five years ago, saving my life during a mission we didn't think was dangerous. So don't tell me I don't understand, Jim. I think I understand a lot better than you give this bureaucrat credit for. You have thirty six hours. Good luck,"

Pike's face faded from the screen as it went black, and Kirk's hand slowly slid from Uhura's shoulder to clench in his hair.

* * *

Less than four miles away, on the dusty cargo-hold floor of an ex-Romulan fighter ship, Spock opened his eyes.


End file.
